With a Touch: The Guild Chronicles, Book 1

by Rhiannon Leith

  “I love you, Eva,” he said. “I love you both.”

  And he slammed the door.

  Myra hit the accelerator and Eva was jerked against the vehicle wall as the AV tore out of the compound. Concentrating on the shield, Eva couldn’t keep her mind fixed to Aidan’s as she wanted to. But she could still sense him. She knew he was there—moving, fighting, shouting out orders, his mind a whirl of combat and jeopardy—right up to the moment when that white-hot flame flickered in agony. And went out.

  She pulled Rafael’s prone body to her, pressed her face to his chest and sobbed out Aidan’s name.

  It was morning before Rafael woke. Weak as a kitten, he grudgingly allowed Eva to help him drink some water and listened to Myra’s hushed report of what had happened. She’d counteracted the tracer in the affected children and Eva no longer needed to shield constantly. They were camped several miles from the settlement and many of the other Hedonists had made their way to this previously agreed rendezvous point.

  He didn’t ask about Aidan. From the moment he’d awoken, Eva knew he’d picked up on her grief. He just pulled her into his disturbingly weak arms and held her against him while she wept. She must have fallen asleep that way. When she woke, he was talking to Myra again.

  “You can’t. It’s as simple as that,” the medic said. “It’s going to be days before you’re even close to physical fitness again. And that’s the least of your problems. The disruption to your abilities…” She shook her head firmly. “I can’t allow it.”

  “It isn’t up to you, Myra,” he growled. “I know what I have to do.”

  “With all due respect, Rafael, it is up to me. I’m your senior medic here. And the agreement was that in medical matters I have the final say. I’ll order you confined if you try it.”

  “Try what?” Eva asked shakily.

  He attempted to shield—a hasty, ragged barrier—but the thought spilled out of him, his abilities both weakened and scrambled after the force of the shockstick. The image assaulted her and made her cry out.

  Aidan. It was Aidan. Manacled to some kind of frame, muscles straining, mind at breaking point. Blood drenched his golden hair on one side, a rich glistening red. One eye had swollen shut. His chest hitched, trying to breathe, trying to keep going. The stabbing pain of a cracked rib and a punctured lung accompanied each intake of air.

  “Again,” said Kaine.

  The shockstick thudded against Aidan’s abdomen, winding him. The impact ignited it, sending electricity coursing through his body. His muscles ratcheted with pain, cramping and tearing. He threw his head back and screamed. Blood filled his mouth, drowning his cries, but the pain went on and on.

  Rafael tore Eva away. It took all his strength to do it. She found herself bent over, breathing hard, tears streaming down her face and sweat pouring off her skin.

  “Where is he?” she gasped when she could form words again.

  “Somewhere in the Guild Compound. With the same bastard commander who had me.”

  “Kaine. It’s Kaine. I thought…” Part of what she was feeling was relief. Sick and twisted and unmistakable relief. “I thought Aidan was dead.”

  Rafael regarded her with fathomless eyes. “He probably wishes he was.”

  She shuffled around, getting control back of her own body. “But why take him? They were after the psychics. Why Aidan?”

  Rafael tilted his head. “Information, I suppose. He knows where we’ll go and they can’t find us now. A shortcut to scouring the countryside perhaps. Or revenge. He masqueraded as one of them, betrayed them.” He nodded slowly, almost to himself. “Revenge.”

  “We have to get him out,” she said.

  “Rafael isn’t up to it,” Myra said. “He can barely keep himself conscious, if he would care to be honest about it. No. He’s not going anywhere.”

  Eva lifted her head, swallowed hard and regarded the medic with a cool expression she hoped might intimidate her enough. There was no sign of if having any effect, but still, she had to try. “Then I’ll go. I assume you don’t object to that.”

  Eva pulled on the soft kid gloves and flexed her fingers. The material caressed her skin, as familiar as breathing. They’d never felt like imprisonment before, the mark of a slave. She scowled at her reflection in the narrow mirror that came as standard equipment in Guild quarters. Her apartment, she’d once called it. But sneaking in here at night trailed by two of the Hedonists disguised as Security officers had felt like breaking into a maximum-security detainment area.

  No. Not quite. That was what she was planning to do now. As soon as she was ready.

  She’d been amazed she still had even the smallest level of clearance, but clearly if Burgess wanted to use her, he hadn’t made it official. He’d sold her out, true, but he’d sold her out both ways. He hadn’t told the Guild she’d been taken. Just in case he could wipe her mind or something and take her back. To use her again.

  She wore another of the standard-issue business suits—charcoal grey, flawless lines, immaculate—and swept her hair back into the same austere chignon. She looked like a different person, cold and heartless, empty inside.

  Outside, the compound was almost silent. She took the empty ’rail down to headquarters, aware that her protectors shadowed her all the way. Just because she couldn’t see them didn’t mean she didn’t know they were there. Faint glows, warm and comforting, but growing distant. They might follow her into the headquarters but not to the sub-levels, not unless they got exceptionally lucky. She couldn’t count on that, or by extension, no matter what they might wish, on them.

  The door chimed as she swiped her entry and walked in without a backwards glance. The Security guard didn’t smile, and this time neither did she. It was all she could do to keep the revulsion of being back here from her features and the forefront of her mind. In the elevator, the light above her flickered and she closed her eyes, offering a little prayer to a deity she barely believed in anymore. Swiping her card again, she punched in the lower level and hoped they hadn’t revoked her extended permit yet.

  The door slid shut. No arm interrupted them this time, no cheery face apologised and then reddened. No Aidan. She breathed in and out—calm…keep calm—and closed her eyes.

  Something fluttered in the forefront of her mind, something which couldn’t possibly be there. A flash of brilliant blue edged with indigo. Like his eyes. But not. Wings.

  As she tried to capture the image it eluded her, gone like smoke on a breeze.

  Part of her longed to reach for Rafael, to see if he sensed that as well and what he made of it, but Rafael wasn’t there. And he couldn’t reach her in here, not so weak. She heaved in a nervous breath and dispelled her own doubts. Even finding Aidan in here was a long shot. She hadn’t dared to let on to any of them how unlikely it was. They all loved him, needed him, in as many ways as Rafael did.

  So did she.

  The elevator gave a slight jolt as it reached the sub-level and the door slid silently open. As her shoes tapped on the tiled floor, she lifted her chin and faced the Security officer who sat behind the desk. He stared at her, waiting for her to speak.

  Standard-issue Guild Security, she told herself.

  She glared at him. “Eva Lee. Guild psychic. Reporting as ordered.”

  When he checked the sheet she slammed her ID down on the table and reached out with her mind, encouraging him to relax, to believe her, to let her go by.

  “For…for Room Seven, ma’am?”

  “For the Valetti case, yes.”

  “Yes ma’am. I’ll buzz you through.”

  “Good.” And just for good measure, she sent a suggestion that he’d fall asleep when she was gone. He was already yawning as she left the corridor and stepped into the antechamber. The middle of the night was a bad shift to pull, even in Security, and he wasn’t likely to make it right through awake.

  The room beyond was dark, and also empty. The one-way window spilled light from the interrogation chamber, cold and blue.
Inside, Aidan was spread out on a torture frame like the image of Vitruvian man, his head sagging down to his chest and his eyes closed.

  A sub-commander paced around him. “Where’s the bloody psychic?” he growled. Not Kaine. Thank God Kaine wasn’t there.

  “On the way, sir,” one of the guards replied, rubbing his fist in his other hand. “Again, sir?”

  “Yes. Make him talk before one of those freaks pokes through his mind and there’ll be a commendation in it for whoever succeeds.” He was in a rage. He wasn’t thinking. He’d probably kill Aidan simply out of carelessness. Kaine would never make such a mistake. The thought chilled her. Even her brief acquaintance with the commander had left the mark of his mind upon her, giving her these ugly little insights.

  The dull impact of fist on flesh made her jerk back. Aidan’s groan burst from his split lips.

  “I’m here,” she tried to tell him, pushing her mind towards his and begging for contact. “I’m coming. I’ll get you out.”

  Butterflies filled her mind, flying everywhere, helter-skelter, all the colours of pain and humiliation, cross-cut with blind panic. She stood in the midst of a rainbow maelstrom of wings trying to drive her back. His mind…in pieces…hardly able to focus. There was almost nothing coherent to grab hold of.

  Another series of punches sent his consciousness reeling and the images fragmented like the reflection in a shattered mirror. The slice of agony that followed could only be a shockstick. This time his scream cracked off the walls and ceiling as she burst into the interrogation room.

  “Guild psychic reporting as ordered, Sub-Commander,” she bit out before he could question her. She kept her back iron-rod straight and didn’t make eye contact. Nor did she look at Aidan for fear the horror of it would give her away.

  “About bloody time,” the sub-commander snarled without sparing her a glance. “The terrorist cell he works with is in retreat. Get their location out of this fucking traitor. Now!”

  She flinched, couldn’t help herself, but it was the right thing to do. He loathed psychics and so long as he saw her only as a freak, he didn’t see her. So long as he was angry, she had a chance. She kept her head down, her shoulder curled over, afraid, submissive, inconsequential.

  “Yes, sir.” She glanced around at the soldiers barring her way to Aidan. “If you could please stand aside, Officers?”

  “Dismissed!” the sub-commander snarled at his men and they filed out grudgingly. A commendation meant a lot—better pay, bonuses, sometimes better accommodation. They didn’t like losing out on it. With any luck, they’d take themselves off to the nearest rec hall, drown in booze and blame her for their loss.

  She approached Aidan as she would a wounded animal, slowly removing her gloves and tucking them into her pocket. The sub-commander began to pace again. He was in trouble, she realised, and gleaned his thoughts from the surface of his panic too easily. This plan to seize the Hedonists and their children, particularly the psychic children, had been supposed to make his name. Commander Kaine already blamed him for his injuries and the escape of their quarry. He could easily blame the whole debacle on him if it ever came to light, and surely would if he failed to get the information they required. An incompetent subordinate was a convenient excuse. Not one of their superiors would know it was Kaine’s plan. Kaine’s and Burgess’s.

  Fighting for control, Eva felt the skin around her eyes tighten as she reined in anger. Burgess had been in on it all along? Was she to have been a scapegoat? Rafael and Aidan pulled her out, but they’d assume, willing or no, she led the Guild right to them, and Burgess would just let the Hedonists think he couldn’t do anything to warn them, to stop the attack. Kaine and Burgess would get all the glory the Guild could bestow, Burgess would get more children to indoctrinate and use, and the Hedonists…

  Eva reached out and pressed her fingertips to Aidan’s burning skin. The butterflies swarmed around her again. He was holding on to the image she had given him, the one thing he could use that wouldn’t give the others away. Butterflies, whirling, flying, falling from the skies, dying in the dirt.

  “Are you planning to take all evening?” The sub-commander folded his arms across his chest.

  She bit the inside of her lower lip and pushed his grating voice from her consciousness. She could fry his brain in a moment. It would only take one push, one tiny push. All she had to do was give in to the urge. Steeling herself, she drew in a breath and pushed him from her mind. She had other concerns. Aidan. She stood in her own dream, surrounded by foliage and butterflies.

  “Aidan? Are you still in there? Please, come back to me now. We need you.”

  He didn’t react, but the sunlight faded overhead, and an icy wind blew through the foliage, tearing the leaves aside and sending the butterflies back into a storm of terror.

  She pressed on, trying to wrap her mind around his, to comfort and calm him.

  “Aidan, listen to me. It’s going to be okay.”

  “A nice promise,” drawled Burgess. “Shame it’s also a lie. He can’t hear you, Eva.” He laughed, the sound startling her back into the interrogation room. “He’s broken. His mind’s gone.”

  Chapter Ten

  Eva spun around to find Burgess standing in the doorway, a shockstick in his hand. Beside him, Commander Kaine trained a sidearm on her. The sub-commander was gone, probably sent in search of reinforcements.

  With a sneer, Burgess approached her, the shockstick primed, energy fizzing along its length. Eva backed up until she found herself against Aidan’s chest, standing between them and her lover.

  There still had to be a way out of this. There had to be. They were blocking the door, but they were the only ones there. No other guards. Just the two of them. Maybe, if she was quick, if she could reach a weapon…

  “Don’t,” Burgess told her and his mind reached out to her like razor wire. He engulfed her, far stronger than he should have been. Eva barely managed a cry of alarm before her defences fell. Her body stiffened, frozen in place by Aidan. “Now, why don’t you sit down like a good girl and finally do what you’re told!”

  He slammed her down into one of the interrogation chairs, heedless of her petrified muscles. Breath burst from her lungs and though she struggled against him, there was nothing she could do to break free. It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be this strong. No psychic was this strong.

  “No single psychic, it’s true.” Sweat beaded on his forehead, glistening in the artificial light. “But when you have access to a cell like I do, Eva—well, then all things become possible.”

  A cell, like the one Hugh had been in. Wiped, mindless, helpless. He was using them, using other people like them to power himself. Her stomach twisted. Children. She could feel them on the fringes of his mind now. So young, so vital, so…empty. Lost children, in the darkness.

  Burgess smiled, a thin cruel smile which told her he had read her discovery. “They have to be young, Eva. They burn out eventually. Then they’re useless. The younger ones last longer, see? But too many kids going missing from Juvenile would be suspicious. So I had to get them from somewhere else.”

  From the Hedonists and other splinter groups, from homes and families here in the compound before they were tested and sent to Juvenile, from those who thought they were escaping! From people like Rafael, Aidan and her father, who thought they were helping others start a new life. God, it didn’t bear thinking about. He’d been using them, every one of them, all this time.

  Burgess took another step forward and laid his shockstick down on the metal table. It rolled back and forth, the sound and movement distracting. Eva flicked her gaze to it and then back up to him. If she could reach it… She squirmed in his grasp, trying to find a way out, a crack through which her mind could wriggle. There was nothing. He was all encompassing, the sum of her world.

  “You don’t remember the first time we met, of course. Had to wipe that right out of your head.”

  She heaved in a desperate breath. Her fingers
tingled. Pins and needles? Or something else? She tried to move them, but failed.

  Burgess snapped his fingers in front of her face. The sound struck her senses like a physical blow.

  “Focus, Eva. I’m talking to you.”

  “You’re talking for your own benefit. There’s nothing I want to hear from you.”

  The thin vicious smile came back and he bent in, right up to her face. His breath stank of mints, his skin of sweat.

  Why? Why was he sweating? Instead of trying to probe his mind—far too powerful now for her to challenge—she took in his physical attributes. The link worked both ways, it seemed. Keeping those kids deprived of sensation meant that they craved experience, life. He was their only source of contact with the outside world and they were greedy for it. God, the things they must have seen through him. The horrors their minds must have beheld…perpetrated even… She pushed such thoughts away. The link took its toll on him too, all that effort to stay in command. It was wearing him out.

  Eva sank back into the chair, partly to put more space between them, partly to gather her racing thoughts. She had to find something, anything she could use.

  Burgess launched himself back and grabbed the shockstick. Eva tensed, panic telling her he would attack, that she’d feel the same agony as Rafael, like shards of glass tearing through her mind. And she could do nothing to avoid it.

  But Burgess kept going. He rammed the end of the stick into Aidan’s chest and set it off.

  Aidan’s scream broke off the walls, echoing, rebounding. He tried to fling himself aside, but the frame held him in place. His muscles convulsed, cramping and releasing violently until finally the charge was spent. He slumped in his bonds again. Blood tricked from his nose and fell, like a star on the ground.

  “Leave him alone!” Eva screamed, her voice at last her own again, if only for a moment. Or had Burgess lost another fraction of his control? “For God’s sake, leave him alone.”